Turning now to sculpture, the circumstance common to the Greek temple with its marbles and the French Gothic cathedral with its stone decorations, strikes us at once. In both cases, the prime impulse was civic pride. This is important. But it is even more necessary to realize the essential difference—that the Gothic cathedral owed even more to the inspiration of a great church and an all-powerful priesthood. At the very outset we come upon the fact that whereas the growth of Greek sculpture largely depended upon such a purely human feeling as the passion for physical beauty, sculpture in the Middle Ages was required to incarnate an entirely extra-mundane emotion—the craving for an all-ruling and ever-living deity. It was to this Coleridge referred when he said that “the principle of Gothic architecture is infinity made imaginable.” Just as the Doric temple—“Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime”—was an echo of the Greek spirit; so the Gothic cathedral, with its vast spaces and its complex schemes of columns, aisles and chapels, ministered to that mysticism which distinguished the Christian religion of Western Europe from the crystal clear faith of Ancient Greece. Some will remember William Watson’s lines “Upon a prelude or a fugue of Bach.” “Contentedly, with strictest strands confined, Sports in the Sun that oceanic mind; To leap their bourn these waves did never long, Or roll against the stars their rock-bound song.” That is the Greek view. How different is the Gothic. Again we turn to William Watson—four lines upon “The Gothic Spire”: “It soars like hearts of hapless men who dare To sue for gifts the gods refuse to allot; Who climb for ever toward they know not where, Baffled for ever by they know not what.” It is not an exaggeration to say that no great sculpture was produced under the influence of the Gothic passion for mystic communion with the Unseen. No one now remembers the name of a single Gothic sculptor. Certainly, no one can recall a single statue of the period as a “joy for ever,”—_the_ test of a work of art of the first order. May we not infer that the art by which the religious instinct most naturally finds expression is architecture, or, as experience has since shown, music?